


Art Major

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, art therapy, i don't know where i'm going with this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight





	Art Major

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsbestosMouth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsbestosMouth/gifts).



_This is insane. What the hell am I going to learn about peace from an art class?_ he thought to himself for what felt like the hundredth time. Sandor Clegane was a lot of things, but an artist was not one of them. Still, Elder Brother had ordered him to take an art class at Quiet Isles Rehab. At least he had been given a choice. Drawing  & Painting had seemed easy enough, and Elder Brother had been pleased by his selection.

“Ms. Tyrell is a wonderful teacher,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the class.”

He looked over the supplies he had been given. Graphite sticks labeled in various numbers. He wondered what that was about, considering all the sticks looked the exact same, except for the number imprinted on them. Drawing was first. He was sitting in front of an easel that had a large drawing pad on it. There were a few other students, none of which he knew.

The door opened and a tall redhead walked in. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, and the smock she wore was splattered in paint. Small handprints decorated the bottom of it.

“Good afternoon, class,” she said brightly. With her hair up like that and her cheerful manner, Sandor was strongly reminded of the summer birds he had been forced to care for during his pet therapy sessions. He wouldn’t say he hated those things, but he did vastly prefer the sessions with the dogs and horses. Hell, even the cats had been better than the damned birds. At least this Ms. Tyrell was easy on the eyes, and her voice was lyrical, as opposed to the high pitched chirps of the actual birds. “I know you were expecting Margaery to be your teacher, but I have good news and bad news. Bad news first, Margaery will not be able to teach this class for several weeks. The good news is…”

_Lemme guess, we get you as a teacher._

“It’s because she just had a baby!” the girl said merrily. 

_Oh._

The other students ooh’ed and aww’ed. One even clapped, a pale blond man. Or was that a masculine woman? Sandor shook his head and listened to the mystery teacher speak. “She wasn’t expecting the baby for a few more weeks, and was going to teach with me as her assistant until she was ready. Plans change, and all we can do is roll with the punches, so I’ll be taking over the class until she comes back, which will be near the end of the course. I usually run the art lessons in the daycare,” she gestured to the handprints on her smock, “but I look forward to working with all of you. Now, how about we go around the room, say your name and at least one thing about yourself. I’ll start, just to break the ice. My name is Sansa, and have a wolf-hybrid named Lady. I adopted her two years ago from the shelter. Ok, next?” She looked at the man on her right. The very short man on her right.

“Oh, um, my name is Tyrion. I am a little obsessed with dragons, paintings, sculptures, stories, that sort of thing. When I was little, I used to wish for a pet dragon.”

“Welcome, Tyrion. Next?”

A dark haired woman was staring at the short man. “My name is Shae. I like movies, especially noir, and my favorite animal is lion.” She had a slight accent, Lorathi, Sandor guessed.

“Welcome Shae. Next?”

“My name is Brienne,” the pale blonde one said. _A woman, it would seem._ “Um, I box. Professionally.”

Sansa’s eyes sparkled a little at that. “Oh! Perhaps, if you feel comfortable, later on during the figure drawing portion, you could show us some of your moves. It’s an important aspect to be able to watch the flow of movement in the body. Once you can see it, you can draw it. Would you please stand up?” Brienne stood up awkwardly and Sansa walked around her, lightly touching Brienne on the arm or shoulder. “Oh yes, you have lovely lines, my dear. I would love to draw you. I hope you will consider being a model for me after this class has ended.” She turned to the rest of them. “There will be a point when I ask for volunteers to model. Everyone is required to do it, just for ten minutes at a time and you will rotate so that everyone has a turn in one class session. You will not have to undress, though it is suggested that you wear snug clothing. That will not be for a few more weeks, however. Thank you, Brienne, you can go ahead and sit back down. Next?’

A gold blond man that reminded Sandor of those old Grecian god statues spoke next. “My name is Jaime. Tyrion’s my brother. Brienne is my...boxing partner. She’s technically here to support both Tyrion and myself, and doesn’t actually belong in this nuthouse. We’re both here on unrelated issues though. It was my idea to take a class together, but I let him pick the class. I like horror movies and comic books.”

Sansa blinked a few times. “Oh, um, ok. Welcome, Jaime. Normally, we do not speak of why we are here unless it is something you feel comfortable with. Or if your respective therapists encourage it. Now, we have one last student...oh my…” She was staring at Sandor.

He grit his teeth, ready to lash out. He knew he didn’t have a pretty face, not like Jaime the comic geek, or even like Tyrion the dwarf, but seriously, she’s supposed to be a professional. Then he saw that same sparkle in her eye as when she was looking at Brienne. She strode towards him and grasped his cheeks in her hands, studying his face. There was no disgust in her eyes, only interest. Not the kind of interest he would prefer from a pretty girl like her, but interest nonetheless. Her hands moved from his cheeks, to his neck, to his shoulders. She circled him, grasped his wrist and raised his arm, trailing a finger from her other hand up his forearm to his elbow and then his shoulder. He shivered a little as that finger moved across his back to his other shoulder.

“Oh my, you… Brienne, if your lines are exquisite, then this man... you, sir, you are a _dream._ These muscles, your bone structure, please, you must let me draw you! Paint you!”

She was looking at him with such stars in her eyes, he found himself mumbling, “Sure?” She beamed at him.

“Sansa,” came a warning from across the room. She gave Sandor a sheepish look, mouthed, _Sorry,_ and turned around.

“Mother, you’re looking well. Everyone, this is Director Catelyn Stark. She’s the boss here.” Sansa grinned brightly at the woman who looked like an older, more cross version of her.

“Sansa, what have I told you about propositioning the patients?” Director Stark asked with a disapproving look.

 _“Mother,”_ she said, “You’re making it sound worse than it actually is. I’ve asked three patients to be my models, five now. I’ve compensated each and every one of the previous three for their time. I really don’t see how it’s a big deal.”

“Brienne’s technically not a patient,” the golden one chimed in. “But I’d be more than happy to model. I’m sure all of us would be happy to help out our art instructor. What sort of compensation are we talking about here?”

Sandor scowled, but Brienne elbowed Jaime. “Now is not the time, Lannister.”

Director Stark sighed. “Just discuss it with their doctors first. I came to let you know that both Margaery and the baby are doing fine, and to check up on you. Let me know if you need any help in here.” Sansa nodded. Director Stark spun on her heel and left.


End file.
